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I had a date over to my house. When he had got there I had already had a bottle of wine. He brought a bottle of wine for me with him. I continued to drink until I blacked out and all I can remember is him showering my own vomit off me and eventually him raping me. I went to therapy that week and laughed off the question “can you consent after two bottles of wine?” I told everyone at the time I had had sex with him. I completely blocked it out for two years. However during this time it really impacted me. Due to a multitude of factors I attempted suicide 4 times while I was in denial about the fact that I was raped. 2 years after the rape I was getting ready to go play a sport I was well versed in with some new people which would include men. I got incredibly angry at the thought of men telling me how to play a sport I knew so much about. When I asked myself why I was so angry. It finally hit me that what had happened 2 years prior was rape. I contacted the local sexual violence centre. Who have now been able to offer me counselling. Since I admitted to myself that it was rape and it happened to me I’ve been better able to deal with the emotions that come with it. The first week after realising what happened I used to walk down the street with clenched fists terrified of every man I saw. Thankfully through talking to friends and sharing my story this is not the case anymore. I found it so bizzare that I had essentially blocked out the fact that I was raped for two years. But on reading up on trauma it made me feel more normal for my response. In terms of legal action I have no evidence the man was even in my house so unfortunately I cannot defend myself in this way. It would be my word against his. This is upsetting to me but I am ready to move on with my life. I am studying in college now and have a fantastic understanding, caring boyfriend who respects me to his core.

I was inappropriately touched and groped by an older uncle. I have only disclosed this with 2 people. The uncle is my moms brother and our family (particularly his immediate family) have suffered horrible losses and deaths over the years and I just don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I feel like I don’t want to tell anyone and make it public so I am so so happy to have found this space. I know my mom would be fully supportive, my whole family would but I just can’t bring myself to say it. I’m 30 now and although the abuse never got far, it still happened. There are 2 occasions. This uncle in question also has been charged I am healing myself every day through mindful breathing, exercise and yoga but it is tough some days.

So I was a woman who thought things like this don't happen to me, until it did. An old friend were meeting for coffee in his apartment, except it wasn't. When he locked the door behind us, I just knew, I told him over and over again I didn't want to have sex with him. He refused to listen, I went in to detachment and froze, all I remember was I got to get out alive, I bearly did. That was over 3 years ago, and I have become gray sexual, fear of sex, or intimacy. It does get better, it's like greif you learn to live with it and move on with it in your life. There is something you loose with out ever getting back. However hang on, talk to a support system, be kind to yourself and learn to love yourself for making it through what no one should have too, it does get better.

There was a night out with my house mate during college. We were having a great time- she was single & was enjoying chatting to guys in the club while I, being in a relationship, was enjoying dancing either on my own or with guys if they wanted to dance. We had a few drinks while out but I know we hadn't drank that much because we were broke students. Whenever a guy would try make a pass at me, I'd politely explain I wasn't single, etc,etc. Near to the end of the night, my housemate was still chatting to this group of guys & she asked if I would like to go back to the guys' house with her for a house party. I said OK because I knew she really fancied one of the guys. I remember being handed a drink but then after that I don't have all the pieces of the picture. Everyone else must have gone off to bed because it was just me & this guy in the living room. I remember it being later in the night/ early morning & I wanted to sleep on the couch. He put all the sofa cushions on the floor - that this would be more comfortable. He was trying to kiss me as I was lying down but I was trying to turn away from him. I definitely remember telling him no, that I had a boyfriend. I can't remember if I had fallen asleep/ passed out but the next memory I have is of him pulling down my tights & underwear. I find it so hard to think of this.. because I'm constantly battling with myself over it. He wasn't rough, didn't hurt me... but wouldn't accept my "no" & if I'm being perfectly honest, from the bits I can recall- I remember actually enjoying it. That is why it is so hard- I felt so guilty after that. I felt like I had done something wrong, that I had cheated on my boyfriend. That they didn't do anything wrong if I enjoyed it. I have never told anyone about that night. I realise now that there must have been something in the drink I was given & logically, I know he was in the wrong for not getting my consent. I can't shake this feeling of shame though.. this guilt.. years later.

I don't imagine that you are lying in bed, thinking about number of years ago. That's my curse to live with. The Mark you made upon me. You raped me, in that miserable and dark car park. Held against my will, and now I lie here thinking, reliving, or simply just living with what you did. Wishing I could change The past. Wishing I could change Your past that you probably don't even remember. Lucky you. Rape and move on. Lucky you. I didn't save your number. Lucky you. I don't know your last name. Lucky you. I didn't report it. Lucky me. I didn't report it... because what was I wearing? And how much had I drank? And why didn't I scream or fight? And why didn't I run or take flight? Facing fear, I froze. Lucky, lucky you.

We were friends. That is what I told him when he tried to kiss me when I was drunk. He smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That is what I told him when I agreed to sleep off the alcohol at his as he insisted it wasn't safe for me to walk home. I felt a sense of relief and comfort when he smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That was what was running through my mind in those seconds that felt like hours when I slowly awoke to his hands down my pants and his soft moaning. We were friends. That was what I screamed as I ran out of his flat. We were friends. That is what I repeated to our social circle that relentlessly placed blame on me for being to 'flirty' or 'leading him on.' We were friends. The realisation that took time to reconcile and fully conceptualise. My perception of the world now shaded with nefarious hues. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I began to enjoy life again. A fleeting moment overshadowed by a watchful eye and a sense of alert that never really leaves me. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I took on the shame that wasn't mine to bear and made me doubt what I knew happened to me. We were friends. That is what I told people when I began to share my experience. Every word feeling like a toss of a stone I had carried around for far too long. We were friends. That is where I find my empowerment. The deepest violation of trust and respect, and yet, I survived.

I was assualted, sexual assualted by a man I trusted, who I looked up to. I was 21 at the time, modeling, doing shoots, stepping into the modeling industry. Little did I know how dark things would get. These women who would stand by these abusers. He groped me from behind and touched me sexually on a shoot. I froze, I couldn't say anything. Couldn't process what was happening. He drove me home, told me to play with myself and let him watch. I ignored his requested and he told me if his wife found out, she'd die from the stress (she was sick at the time) and it would be MY FAULT. I strongly believed this and held everything in for three months. I pushed everything to the back of my mind, denied it. Everywhere I looked I saw the make of his car, his name, thought he was following me. I eventually I had a breakdown, went to the guards. Who were absolutely useless and laughed at my five page statement. There was no evidence but my word against his. So he got models to read off scripts and tell the guards how I was in love with this man and "asked for it". Told everyone in the industry that I was "unstable" and how he feared for HIS life. As if I was the predator. The coward couldn't even come forward himself...turned everyone against me. Feeling so alone, I confided in my dance instructors who I really trusted. Only for them to be STILL working with this man to this day. I gave up fighting as no one around me believed me. Taking me 7 years to open up again about my trauma. Everyday it still effects me..seening his name everywhere on social media. People singing him praises, if only they knew... would they believe me?? Do I risk going through the trauma all over again??

All of my closest friends have been sexually assaulted in some kind of way, including myself. It breaks my heart, all I want to do is hug them and tell them it’s gonna be okay and it won’t happen again but I can’t guarantee that and it’s so scary.

I meet her where the grass grows too quietly— beneath the hush of houses that never saw a thing. The air still smells like morning, but the light is brittle, like it remembers what I try to forget. She’s standing in the place where silence broke— where footsteps came without warning, and fear arrived wearing a stranger’s hands. Her shadow stretches farther than her body, like it’s trying to run even now. Her eyes hold no knowledge of knives, no tremble at the sound of boots on soft dirt paths. crunching gravel. on morning walkways. through the hush of leaves. She tilts her head when she sees me— like I’m someone she almost remembers, a reflection in a dark window she once waved to before the glass cracked. I want to touch her— say: You didn’t deserve it. None of it. But the words fall heavy, like broken teeth in my mouth. So I sit beside her. Quiet. Breathing the same dream-air, counting the space between our shoulders. Maybe one day she’ll take my hand. Maybe we’ll braid our hair back into one girl who can sleep again. But tonight, she just hums a song I forgot how to sing. And I listen— because even ghosts deserve to be heard.

He was my boyfriend. We had just had sex and he wanted to go again. I said “no”, he said “but I want to”, and he did. Those words ring in my mind so clearly. It wasn’t violent or aggressive, but it felt like something broke in me then. I carried that with me for a long time, and still do. Part of my shame was that I didn’t leave. Months later, I confronted him about it and he was so angry and not open to hearing me. That is not how someone who loves you, cares for you, or respects you acts. That is not how someone who respects women acts. It took me a long time to see that. Years later, I am seeing someone who is kind and safe. He doesn’t know this story but he cares for me and wants me to feel safe regardless. He has never been angry or upset when I didn’t want to have sex, if I wanted to stop or pause or talk about it or if there was something I didn’t like or wasn’t comfortable with. He listens when I explain a boundary and is always open to changing his behaviour to make me feel as comfortable and safe as possible. That is someone who cares, who inherently respects other people and wants to be a safe space. That is normal and the bare minimum. Abusers, perpetrators, and predators can warp your sense of reality but I promise you, people who are kind and good exist and there are so many more than you would think. You deserve to be treated with respect, kindness, and gentleness. That is never too much to ask for, that is the bare minimum.

Wow, first of all. How empowering. I can't even fully talk to therapists or my family support workers because I'm afraid I'll have to make statements. I've been sexually assaulted and raped more times than I can remember. One particularly tough event, my ex, my child's fathers. Well I was passed out. I woke up to him carefully pulling out of my body. I ran to the toilet. Sick with shock. I had a protection order but I had let my guard down and gotten drunk with neighbours the night before. I called my sister. She came to bring me to an emergency chemist. I took the morning after pill. Month came, the Date and I still hadn't got my period. The test was positive. I had to illegally obtain tablets and have an abortion in my sisters house. Very sad and awful time of my life. This platform is a god send.

I spoke out against someone who I was so afraid of and still am, he perceived this "power" he had over me and his place in society. I never thought I'd be able to tell anyone never mind report, but I did. I am finding the process of the journey for justice very difficult and sometimes very isolating. On the bad days I have to remind myself, no one is above the law just because their place in society and no one no matter who they are has a right to exploit others. Looking back I sometimes feel like I've been hit in the face with a reality check of the two years of control and mind games used to take advantage of me

AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN...IT WAS NOT Month, Year I was on Holiday with a group of friends in Country. It was our last night on Holiday as we were due to fly home to Ireland the next day. We got dressed up and went out for some drinks to a bar.We got a nice table and we were enjoying the atmosphere and chatting There was a group of men not far from us enjoying the night out having some beers. There were a mixed group some were middle aged and 2 of the men looked young. I noticed 1 of the men staring at our table as he was drinking his beer. He was tall and muscular in build and had light brown hair with a hint of blonde in it. I was listening to my friend as she was talking into my ear. This particular man kept staring but I was not quite sure what he was staring at. I smiled towards him as that was my natural demeanor to be friendly. He did no smile back but he kept staring and raised his eyebrow. I did not take any further notice. I went to the Ladies toilets and when I returned the Man with light brown to blonde hair was now sitting on the seat I had been sitting on. The other Men all joined him at our table. They introduced themselves and said they all were working at Sea and were from Country. My friend was trying to talk to the Man who was had been doing all the staring but he just ignored her. She left to get a drink. He then turned his attention towards me and began talking to me. We were talking for awhile and then out of nowhere he Kissed me. I was surprised by the Kiss. It was just a quick peck on my lips. He then put his hands on my waist and complimented me. I said nothing as I was unsure of him. I asked him to dance with me as Bob Marley was playing and I loved Bob Marley's songs. He danced close to me and kept his hands on both my hips. We both went back and sat down I said I then wanted to go out side for some fresh air alone. He followed me outside. One of the other Men came too and called to him but he told him to give him a minute. I stood with my back against the wall of the bar outside. He had his left arm against it resting it there. I looked up at him as he was much taller than me. I was a little nervous afraid he might hurt me. He saw that uncertainty in my eyes. He told me he was not going to hurt me. He then lifted me up. He was so strong. He then kissed me more passionately. He put me down and asked me to have 1 drink with him. I agreed as I did begin to like his company. We had a drink together. He asked for my email. I wrote it down for him. We got a taxi along with the other Men and he left me safely back at the Hotel. He had to report back for duty. He emailed me the next day to take me out for dinner but I declined as I had to fly home to Ireland. We would email for the next 8 Months. I did not know what lay ahead of me and the deception that would occur. I decided to give him a chance as he seemed very keen. I was also very young and Naive at aged 26. He was also aged 36 and 10 years older. I have him a chance anyway. Month, Year This Man and myself were in constant communication when he was free to email me and we built an emotional bond.I was sad I could not see him due to deployment at sea. I tried my best to understand. This was a new world to me. I kept working as a Nurse and living my life. I looked forward to his emails which became more personal and intimate. He eventually said he wanted to meet me in Dublin in Month, Year to go on a Date together but then things changed with work for him. He apologised and told me how gutted he was. I off course believed him as I was only getting to know him. He then told me we would meet up the next time he had shore leave which was then Month, Year. He asked me to fly to Country. I agreed and he asked me to books Hotel which I did. I flew the beginning of Month, Year. I had mixed emotions. I had not seen him since Country in person but had still built up repoire with him. I met him that evening in Town in Country. We had food together and shared a bottle of wine. We talked a lot and he told me he got promoted to OFFICER. I congratulated him. I excused myself to use the Ladies. I came back and sat beside home. He suddenly grabbed the back of my head and kissed me deeply. He then said we should go upstairs. I followed but also knew things were going to get intimate but did not realise the way things would go. We went into the lift and he said nothing only stared at me. We watched Television for a little while. I could feel the energy off him and it made me nervous. I got up from the bed we were lying on together watching Television. He got up too and towered over me. He then pushed me onto the bed and began Kissing me furiously. He took my lower half clothing from my body. I was unsure and not really ready for sex between us as he scared me he was so strong but also very handsome. He whispered into my right ear exactly what he wanted to do to me.He kissed my top area and lightly touched me down in my private area. I asked him had he got a condom. He put the condom on and then he penetrated me but I found my voice then as his intense demeanor was scaring me. He was very riled up. I said NO and turned my head away from him. He said nothing only took the Condom off and looked at all of me intensely. He then pushed my left leg to the sideand proceeded to put himself into me using his hand to support and kept pushing his private region up against my private region. I disassociated after that as I knew I lost the battle with him. He eventually fell asleep snoring. I felt strange and sore. I fell asleep eventually with his arm around me. I felt trapped. I woke up the next morning and found my arm stuck to his stomach.He spoke to me and complained about his mouth been dry. I was going to get him some water. The next thing he grabbed my right side near my tummy and flipped me onto my back. He mounted me and wanted to penetrate me again as deep as he could. He was determined. I was sore and lifted my legs up resistance. I suggested the shower as I wanted to distract him from hurting me. He agreed but said nothing and took me by the wrist behind him into the shower. He took me into his arms and held me so tightly I was clinging to him holding on to his shoulders. He kissed me so deeply and hard. He let me go. I stood in the shower shaking. He waited for me to get dressed and then started teasing me as I cut myself shaving my legs in the shower. He said he would carry me to the hospital. We had breakfast together and he took me to a Attraction. He held my hand in the way to the Attractionbut no conversation. I felt strange and very sore. I wanted to not acknowledge what had happened between us. I felt I done something wrong and I caused it. When we went back to the Hotel. He looked and me an blurted out in what seemed like a shameful tone that He was married. I went OH MY GOD as I had no idea. He had lied to me and deceived into thinking he was my Boyfriend which off course he was not. I asked him why he invited me to Country and he could not respond. He then said he also had a little child. I stupidly asked as I was shocked and confused if the child was a boy or a girl. He snapped at me and said does it matter. I said I was sorry. I only asked. He then said a little boy. I said that was nice and walked away from him. He followed me across the room and then said He was the BASTARD there. I told him yes he was. After all that he asked me for a Kiss and a cuddle as and said I was an Amazing and Special girl. I turned my head away from him but he leaned in and kissed me on my right cheek. He got his bag and then went to leave but stared at me the whole way to the door. I walked up to him and told him I would meet someone better than him. He looked straight into my eyes. Then he walked away looking back at me. He was 1 Hell of a bad person. I had a luck escape. I spent years denying what he had really done to me. I went home from Country. I was very sore for days. I became very depressed. I got on with my life and Married a wonderful Nationality Man and had a Beautiful daughter. What the Nationality Officer done to me will haunt me forever. I finally acknowledged 16 years later that he did in fact Rape me. I wanted to protect him and not blame him. That it had been my fault for allowing him to do things to me and not communicate enough with him. It takes 2 People to communicate in any relationship. Nobody has the right to violate or coerce anyone else. I now know he had alot of coercive control over me. I will not let it define me but it never truly goes away. I have to live with it and so will he. I do now believe he knew what he done. I emailed him after to confront him. He never replied as too ashamed. I was a stark reminder of his shame.

I was assaulted by a man, who was an acquaintance, in my apartment. We had hooked up once before, and it had been quick but fine. Things started consensually, but at one point it began to hurt me and I asked him if we could stop. At that point, he pushed down on my upper back, high enough that my mouth was half pushed into the pillow. I froze, and couldn't move at all. I just waited for him to finish whatever it was he wanted to do. The aftermath was extremely confusing. I first thought that it was just a bad experience. But as the months went on, I realised it was playing on my mind too much to be dismissed as that. Six months after the assault, I sought some medical tests. It was a year after, amid a particular run of sexual assault stories in the media, that I contacted rape crisis centre to get help. I also reported to the Gardai several years after my assault, and while they handled it well they also warned that if I was to pursue an investigation that the process could be very exposing and I chose not to take it further. My assault took place only six months after I had come out as queer, and so it felt like much of what I had worked hard to accept about myself and to go through as part of coming out was impacted -- the freedom to be who I was and to enjoy my sexuality was taken away for a long time. My assault was not the first time nor the last time I experienced non-consensual behaviour, although was by far the most serious and impactful occurrence.

I was experimenting with my partner at the time, and he wanted to try new things. He pushed and pushed saying he wanted to try anal sex. I gave in and said that we could try but if I didn’t like it he had to stop. The second we started, I wanted to stop. I tried to push him and get his hands off my hips but he did not stop. I just lay there and cried until he finished. For years I thought it was my fault because I accepted it in the first place and said yes. But now I know it is not ok. And it was not my fault

I had to say yes to get it over with. I was in bed alone and he came back from a night out. He wouldn't take no for an answer and had the cocaine fuelled energy to keep harassing me for hours. I was so worn down and exhausted and emotionally beaten down that I decided saying yes would mean he would eventually leave me alone. So, I let him.

One day I decided to go to the shopping centre to finish my essay for college. As I was typing away minding my own business, a man came up to me and grabbed my face and tried to kiss me. I was in shock, I didn't know what to do. I froze. In a busy shopping centre no one batted an eye. No one was helping me. Eventually he was pulled off me. But when I told my parents they just laughed at me as if it was nothing. For years I was convinced that it was nothing, that I was just being dramatic but I wasn't. I know now that what happened was a form of sexual assault. I think because sexual assault or rape is usually perceived through the media as one thing and not another. I always thought nothing happened to me but I was attacked in a public place that I felt safe in. Even before this through the years I have been slapped on the ass for no reason, cat called when I am out walking, sexual remarks made towards me, sexual comments passed my way. Again, to me this was minor but I know now as an adult that this is not just minor. I didn't ask for any of these things to happen to me. These things are not OK and I shouldn't nor should anyone else be normalising them just because its not what is precieved to be sexual assault. It is sexual assault and this needs to be said and reminded to people.

When I was 23, after having lost my father to cancer and moving into my first home as a single parent, I was "sexually assaulted" by my uncle who was now one of my neighbours. It was what was possibly deemed a harmless move by him, a drunken misunderstanding where he accidentally but forcefully stuck his tongue in my mouth while consoling me on my loss. The weight of him pressing me into the sofa of my new home. My new place of safety. He was a large man with a wheelbarrow stomach and a stench of unwashed flesh that lingers in the spaces long after he has passed through them. He never spoke a word I could ever understand because his native dialect rested somewhere between a brogue and the sound of someone clearing their throat. I always politely, on account of my aunt, nodded in agreement whenever he spoke to me. I pushed him away and apologetically resisted his advances so as not to offend him. It never occured to me to make a scene, others might have demonstrated greater revolt but I had just left an abusive relationship with the father of my child, a man who was given to dangling phlegm from his mouth over my face while pinning my arms down as a means of foreplay. Being sexually compromised was something that I had long accepted as normal. According to my mother I deserved it, people don't do things to other people unless they deserve it. He was just trying to be nice to me after all. I also learned quickly that if you did happen to discuss things with anyone that they had ways of silencing you. My new neighbours were informed of my single parent status and it's always better to keep girls like me at arms length. I thought I had been finally set free from an abusive relationship only to find myself thrust into a dynamic that set the stage for a lifetime of fear and resprisals from any man that wanted to really. A couple of weeks later my late fathers friend, an elderly gentleman with a family of his own, repeated the experience. A man of standing in the community, he had called to offer his condolances and suggested he could help me find work through a local employment scheme to help me get back on my feet. Once again I found myself on the recieving end of a sexual embrace, ending with him forcing his tongue into my mouth. I didn't get that job, in fact I spent the next twenty years resisting poverty and doing my best under the same kind of unemployment schemes while always being rejected for paid labour. It was on one of these employment schemes where I became the subject of one partcular mans obsession. He was the same age as me although very shy and reserved, maybe because he suffered from a physical disability. He worked in a different office to me and we would see him skulking around outside the building I worked in and often, waiting outside at clock out time. He would casually greet me and join up with our group and continue to follow along with us. The others made fun of him but I felt bad about that and tried my best to be respectful. As our work progamme ended everyone naturally went their own ways but he never left and for twenty years he remained, insisting he was just a friend despite my objections that I had no desire to be with anyone. Most people automatically assume that he was my partner now but in all the years I had known him, I remained single and celibate. I had never been able to consider being in relationship with another man. I never had the freedom to be even if I wanted to. My mother would tell people he was my partner and as it happened, he was very effective at "keeping me out of trouble". Instead, I turned to other women for relationship and in the hope that he, and others, might get the message and leave me alone. It was many years before I found the videos he had been taking of me on his phone when I wasn't looking. It turned out he was a prolific client of escort services too and apparently, acording to the man who's child I bore and raised by myself this meant that I was a paid whore also. It wasn't until I sought help that I learned how I was being portrayed. The first counsellor I went to called me a liar when I told her that my childs father had physically abused me. For three months I sat unable to speak in a psychologist office, being accused of things I had previously been unable to imagine. I lost the ability to verbalise. My nervous system shut down. My body would shake uncontrollably. I tried to kill myself but I didn't know how. I stopped trusting people, least of all the services you would nomally turn to for help. The gaurds, my gp, even the voluntary agencies in places of statutory ones. For years after I struggled to come to terms with this abuse and I was alone through all of it. I did everything I could to drag myself out of that place, yoga, meditation, exercise but none of it made much difference because I could never wipe away the pain on the inside. One day I listened to a story on the radio and in response penned a letter to a rape crisis center. I never considered what I had been through as sexual abuse so I never considered discussing it with anybody. I began to write. I met with a counsellor and handed her my letter. As she spoke the words of my story I heard someone else speaking but it didn't sound like me. I didn't feel ashamed, I felt brave. I didn't feel worthless, I looked at the woman in the chair in front of me and felt like her, like I had value and that my words had meaning. I didn't feel stupid or retarded, I saw a beautiful articulate woman, not a destitute worthless prostitute. After years of being silenced I finally heard the sound of my own voice. I think I slept for two days after that. My own voice has grown stonger every day since. It's kinder and more understanding, more loving and gentle toward myself. I no longer live with the same level of fear as before. The guilt and shame I was used to feeling and that others used to inflict upon me no longer controls me. Something was given back to me that was lost and now no one can ever take it away again. I'm still working on healing myself but I enjoy life in moments and even have goals again. I'm glad that this place can give people a voice too and that those who read these words might hear themselves speaking and will know that they are not alone.

For 15 years we were together. Three kids. But he would have sex with me when I slept. Sometimes I would wake and pretend to be asleep, other times I’d wake in the morning, pyjamas pulled down sore and covered in his ejaculate. It was like what happened at night wasn’t real, even though I hated it. I hated sex with him because not, I feared bedtime, I’d occasionally convent to buy myself a few days knowing he would leave me alone. Until the day he did it while I was awake, when I said no, and that I didn’t want to he replied ‘but I want to’ and then he did. I froze, that one time is the one that 5 years later never leaves my head, I think of it every day. But I’m good now. I left him, I’ve a partner who understands and would never do anything like that. I’m happy. But the ptsd is always right there

To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.Tofight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one. To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.